Ashes To Ashes
by Ceasefire
Summary: HavocRoy fics for the 7snogs Livejournal community, varying in genre and rating. [Drabble the Fourth: Jealousy. 4 out of 7 complete]
1. Sunset

Woohoo, more 7 Snogs challenges, this time for Havoc/Roy. Enjoy! I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

* * *

Colonel Roy Mustang was not a smoker. Jean Havoc, his Second Lieutenant, simply didn't not smoke; it was his signature quality and Roy often heard new recruits and transfers referring to the blond as "the Second Lieutenant that smokes" until proper names and politeness were learned. 

Roy hated the smell of the tobacco burning; he hated the smell of anything burning, as it was always the same in the end. Death, the end of whatever was engulfed by the flames, and Roy watched the spent ashes drop from the end of Havoc's cigarette and all but crumble as they fell to the soft earth beneath their feet, returning to the soil from whence they came.

Everything died eventually, with the pattern of sunrise and sunset. Everything returned to its origin, and as Roy kneeled down to tug the slightly overgrown grass away from the tombstone of his best friend, Brigadier General Maes Hughes, it was even more startling than before, to once again realized that one day everyone he had ever known would be dead.

He scowled and tugged on a particularly stubborn clump of grass. The graveyard keeper obviously hadn't been doing his job.

"Hey, Chief," Havoc muttered softly, placing his hand on the smaller man's shoulder, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Havoc," he responded, giving a sigh and getting back onto his feet.

"If you say so," the Second Lieutenant murmured, dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it underfoot.

"One day, we'll both have to die," Roy muttered, and Jean cocked an eyebrow in question.

"Of course, Chief."

"Sometimes I worry that my life will end like Hughes's did."

"Don't say that," Havoc frowned, "If you worry about death when you're alive you'll never really live."

Mustang gave a weak smile and let Havoc gently place his arm around his shoulders.

"I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am," Havoc smirked and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Roy's head.

Roy Mustang hated the smell of the burning tobacco, but he couldn't bring himself to mind the taste and tilted his chin up obediently when Jean leaned down to kiss him and filled his mouth with the dry taste of the cheap brand of cigarettes he chose to smoke; a stark contrast to the warm wet of his tongue pressing insistently against Roy's.

When they broke away, Roy cast one final look back to his friend's grave and took Jean's hand.

"Let's go home, it's getting late."

Jean couldn't bring himself to refuse the offer when Roy reached into his chest pocket, tugged out a cigarette and help it up for Havoc to hold between his lips, just as Roy couldn't bring himself to mind when Havoc reached into his coat pocket and extracted a white glove.

Mustang tugged the glove on and smirked.

"Any time you're ready, Chief," the Second Lieutenant gave a lopsided smile.

The Colonel snapped his fingers.

**END

* * *

**

That was for my friend, Spades 44. You rock, hon, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.


	2. Uniform

Cute little fluff story now; please be aware of the end of series spoilers in this one. This was written for Theme One, which is 'Uniform'.I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

* * *

Jean found it both heartbreaking and endearing that Roy always seemed to feel unsafe after the coup, even as he slept. Sometimes the tossing and turning became so bad that Jean was forced to wake his former commander to make him aware of the nervous reflex, only to have him once again fall asleep and resume the unwitting action anew.

Roy never took off the eye patch, even as he slept with Jean's arms around his waist, even as the two of them made love and if Jean ever made a move to remove the patch Roy had a habit of shying away, jerking his head from the gentle touch or distracting with a kiss or gentle caress. Roy had never really slept peacefully; too much paranoia for any noise that broke the silence survived in his mind, thanks to the Ishvar Rebellion. The nightmares had simply reached a new level of extreme, and of guilt. There was nothing that Jean could do, aside from waking the older man and holding him until he fell back into slumber. Everything seemed different, even the how Roy behaved; Roy had never worn pyjamas to bed before, as long as they had been together; he'd simply slide under the covers naked, bare skin pressed to bare skin, a tender contrast to those old lovers that simply came and went. Now, Havoc had the plastic buttons and rough cotton pressed to his skin, but Roy's hand stayed warm and soft in his own. When he was at work and Roy was left alone in their bed in his pale blue hospital pyjamas with fingers chilled and clenched into his palm. There was nothing he could do to salvage Roy from the nightmares while he wasn't there.

At least, he had thought there wasn't.

Roy had always been one for regularity; he had always been well prepared for the out-of-ordinary but had not cared for being surprised. The uniform - and Jean - had always been his means of anchoring himself. When Jean had arrived home on that rainy afternoon, tired and irritable from the office and a new commanding officer (who in his opinion paled in comparison to Roy thank-you-very-much) he had found Roy curled up on their bed, hair leaving a damp spot on the pillow as he slept quietly, wrapped in Jean's own spare uniform jacket. The jacket was too big for him by far, but he seemed comfortable sleeping in it, with the damp blue pyjama pants on his bottom half and the jacket wrapped around his torso.

Jean grinned, shed his large black overcoat and sat on the bed next to Roy, running his fingertips idly through the back of his lover's dark hair as Roy finally stirred and woke. He shifted away from the large hand stroking his hair and instead rolled to rest his head on Havoc's thigh.

"Sleep well, Chief?" Havoc grinned, resting his hand delicately on Roy's bruised shoulder. Roy nodded against Havoc's leg and then rolled away to allow Jean enough space to strip off his uniform and be left in his boxers and black undershirt.

Havoc smiled and slid into bed next to Roy, who curled around him immediately and whispered softly in his ear.

_"Kiss me."_

Jean nodded, cradled the back of Roy's neck with his left hand a pressed a gentle kiss to Roy's lips, a deeper display of love and devotion beyond words.

There were no nightmares that night, just Jean and Roy, bare skin on skin and a regular routine partly restored to the uniformly norm.

Change wasn't always a bad thing when you had the people you loved to support you.

**END

* * *

**

For my Spades. Love you, hon! Comments, anyone?


	3. Rumour

Humour and a little bit of naughtiness for you this time! I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist... surprised?

* * *

When there was any news of Havoc actually scoring with anyone, he got so many congratulatory comments he was sure everyone was just teasing him again. Really, was it really that unbelievable that he'd walked into the office with love bites all over his neck? And jaw line? And other places that were covered by his uniform thank goodness for small mercies? 

Breda sure seemed to think so. Farman seemed to think Breda was too nosy.

"So, let me get this straight..." his friend mused, staring him down with mock seriousness, 'Last night, you actually got lai-"

"Is it really that hard to believe?" Havoc grumbled, subconsciously chewing on the filter of his cigarette.

"You want the honest answer?" Breda smirked. Farman sighed and returned to his work.

"What I would enjoy, Second Lieutenant Breda," First Lieutenant Hawkeye intervened from across the room, "Is for you to finish that report on the latest Fire Station safety standards."

Breda fell quiet and grabbed his pen from the top of the desk, scribbled something on a piece of scrap paper, folded it and tossed it across the desk to Havoc. The blond took it between his fingers, much the same as he would a cigarette, and moved to unfold it under the desk to avoid Hawkeye's watchful gaze.

_Who was she?_

Havoc grunted, scrunched the paper up in his fist and stubbed out his spent cigarette on in. He saw no need to respond; it would only increase Breda's probing for details, and he saw no reason why he should gratify the man's nosiness.

He had the uncanny ability to keep his personal and professional lives separate, after all.

* * *

It was amazing, how one rumour could spread around the entirety of East HQ so quickly. Especially when it was supposedly something that didn't happen too often (but still happened thank you very much) like the event of he, Jean Havoc, actually coming to work with love bites. This, of course, spoke of intimacy and frankly, Havoc was surprised when he didn't see a goddamned banner hanging up in the Mess Hall in celebration of him getting laid. 

After settling down on one of the uncomfortable wooden benches with his usual meal (whatever muck the Mess staff classified as 'food' that day and a fresh cigarette) he tried his best to ignore the tittering giggles of the Secretarial women at the seats behind him. Did they not have better things to do with their lives than gossip?

Apparently not. Jean took a deep, soothing drag from his cigarette, held the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds before letting the tobacco smoke drift lazily into the air through his nostrils. Somewhere behind him, one of the giggles turned into a cough. Jean snorted again; that was divine justice if he ever saw it.

He'd have to get back to work soon; Mustang would be showing up a good two hours late for work once again, and he didn't want to be on the receiving end of Hawkeye's wrath at being a few minutes late himself. That woman was amazingly tolerant and damn scary at the same time.

"Errr... Lieutenant Havoc?" a small, nervous voice whispered behind him.

Havoc looked over his shoulder and was met with the sight of a small (well, not all small, he noted as his line of sight came into direct contact with the woman's bosom), red-headed woman who worked in the offices just across the hall from the Colonel's.

"I was just wondering... would you like to go out sometime?"

Havoc considered this for a moment (while most of his 'consideration' centred around the cleavage that was right in front of his nose) before shaking his head.

"Sorry... I have a... friend."

Friend? What the Hell?

"Oh, I understand... I'm sorry to interrupt you."

Havoc shook it off and stood to leave, ignoring the hurried whisper of "I told you so!" that followed him out of Mess. He would have declined, even if he'd thought that she was interested in anything other that grilling him for information. He had the uncanny ability to keep his personal and professional lives separate, after all.

* * *

He got back to the office a few minutes late due to the date request (but he was fashionably late, thank you very much) and found Hawkeye sorting files with an overzealous amount of coolness, and Mustang sulking at his desk. 

"Lieutenant Havoc..." Hawkeye started, but Havoc swiftly apologized for his lateness.

"Got held up by some secretaries, see," he explained.

"I'm sure you'd like that," Breda smirked, earning a horrified look from Fuery, who had just returned from the Radio Department, "Come on, just tell us who she is!"

"Who is it that we're speaking of?" Mustang's slow purr cut across the protest on the tip of Havoc's tongue. Havoc blinked at the dark-haired man, and Roy smirked in reply.

"Lieutenant Havoc's new girlfriend," Hawkeye explained, scrutinizing Mustang out of the corner of her eye.

"He's got all these love bites up his neck!" Breda grinned at Fuery, who gave him a look that clearly said he wanted to be left out of this.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant. How long will you hold onto this one?" Mustang reclined in his chair, lazily, challenging.

Havoc swallowed.

"A long time. At least that's what I hope, Chief."

"Good luck on that, then," Mustang purred, a dangerous fire lighting his eyes, "While I have your attention, Lieutenant, would you care to help me retrieve some files from the storage cupboards in the South Wing?"

"Of course, Chief," Havoc once again swallowed, got to his feet and mimicked Mustang's calm stride as he followed him out the door.

"Funny... thought the South Wing was closed for cleaning?" Breda questioned, then shrugged, "Probably going to flirt with the cleaning girls."

"I should like to think that they'd know better than to mix their personal and professional lives," Hawkeye grinned to herself, "They're smart men, after all."

* * *

Havoc was pressed against the back wall of the storage cupboard by Mustang, military jacket discarded to the floor, hands firmly around his lover's waist (and a little lower, thank you very much) and head tilted back as Roy kissed and licked and sucked and nipped at Havoc's jaw, leaving a perfect, flushed scarlet mark in his wake. 

Having your lover also being the boss that dictated which sections of HQ got cleaned at what time (and even if they were really being cleaned at all) certainly had its advantages.

"Boss..." Havoc's face turned red enough to match the bites on his jaw and neck as Roy ran his tongue along the shell of the taller man's ear, then sunk to his knees and lifted Havoc's shirt just enough to press soft, heated kisses to Jean's stomach.

"I have no problem..." Roy breathed as he ran the tips of his fingers beneath the waistband of his Lieutenant's uniform pants, "I have no problem with you calling me Roy."

Havoc smirked, grabbed Mustang's wandering hands and tugged him back to his feet, pulling his commander against his body and kissing the dark-haired man forcefully, with tooth and tongue and lip and with smooth hands running under the crisp blue jacket Roy still wore.

"Don't want to, Boss."

Roy responded by giving Jean a sharp nibble on the bottom lip. Jean laughed and unbuttoned Roy's jacket, letting it slide off and to the floor on its own.

"I want to see you," Mustang murmured against Havoc's neck with a light jerk of his hips, and Havoc could do nothing else but comply.

Neither of them really saw the need for the wearing of uniforms at times like these. Removing each other's uniforms totally and leaving them discarded until duty called them back to the office was their way of keeping their personal and professional lives separate, after all.

* * *

"Colonel Mustang?" Farman asked when his superior officer returned with an armful of files, "Do you know where Lieutenant Havoc has gone? He needs to sign these papers." 

"I'm afraid not, Warrant Officer," Mustang sighed, "He took off after we found the files. Said he had things to do."

When Havoc returned ten minutes later, now with a fresh set of bites on his neck and a spent expression on his face (but with uniform utterly immaculate, thank you very much), Breda smirked.

"So, the girlfriend must work here!" he grinned, "Come on, Havoc! Spill the beans!"

Roy smirked as he signed his name on the bottom of the form in front of him. Havoc could attempt to explain (orlie about) the link between his professional and personal lives by himself, after all.

**END**


	4. Jealousy

More humour, because being angsty is too cliched. I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.

* * *

Roy Mustang was a master of denial, of covering his tracks, and of the classic "poker face" that made so many people wonder just what the Hell went on in his head. This worked to his advantage in many ways; it kept his enemies one step behind him, assured that he was able to dodge around the more complicated of situations occasionally related with work but constantly related with the women who sent him love letters. 

It was also reassuring to know that he had most excellent subordinates who were willing to guard his back just in case the situation got a little too far out of hand, even if the one who was fuming was a subordinate themselves.

"I assure you, Hawkeye," Mustang smirked over gloved, steepled fingers, "I was not the one who 'ransacked' the storage room."

So what if he had been in there on the late shift the night before, slacking off and generally tired, and had decided it would be nice to open the window to let some fresh air in while he'd taken a nap? How was he supposed to know that storms and high winds were predicted for later that night?

Hawkeye sighed and massaged her temples.

"Sir, I don't know who is responsible for this, but I would hope that you are dedicating yourself to remedying this problem."

"I'll get someone onto it," Roy grinned.

"Thank you, Sir," Hawkeye saluted, grabbed the large box of files from off her desk and heaved them out of the room, grimacing slightly at the weight of the box.

Roy was on the verge of putting his feet up on the desk and dozing off when Havoc entered the room, a manila folder in one hand and a half-spent cigarette in the other.

"Aah, Lieutenant Havoc! Just who I wanted to see!" the Colonel grinned broadly at Havoc's wary expression.

"Yes, Boss?" Havoc replied while reaching up to place the cigarette back between his lips.

"Are you busy this evening?"

"Well, I've got a date with the girl who works at the bakery down the road here..." Havoc blinked and pointed over Mustang's head and out the window at the top of the room, in the general direction of a small bakery where Mustang occasionally bought his lunch.

"But what time do you have to arrive at this date?" Mustang questioned, dark eyes glinting.

"Not until about eight o'clock, Boss," Havoc's blue eyes narrowed, "Why do you ask?"

"I hate to ask this of you, Havoc," Roy started, immediately incurring a look of cynicism on his Second Lieutenant's face, "But I have a very important appointment later this evening, and First Lieutenant Hawkeye wants me to stay behind to sort out the disorganized storage room. Would you be able to stay back a little late this afternoon to give me a hand?"

Havoc looked relatively displeased, but saluted all the same.

"Of course, Sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Mustang purred. Havoc sighed, ran his free hand tiredly through his hair and went to sit at his desk, intent on finishing the paper in the folder he'd brought in with him, the thought of even more overtime without extra pay apparently making him willing to work hard. Mustang sighed exaggeratedly and put his feet up on his desk, intent on resting while Hawkeye was out of the room.

It was going to be a long night, after all. He had to keep his energy up.

* * *

"Care to help at all, Boss?" the blond grumbled as he lifted one of the last newly organized boxes up onto the top shelf, "We've only got the first lot of shelves full so far." 

"I'm not as tall as you are, Havoc," Roy smirked from his position on the table, reclined in the moonlight, "I'm not going to be much help."

Havoc merely grunted in reply, put the box into place and grabbed the final two smaller boxes under each arm to put on the top shelf. Once that was done, he wiped the sweat from his brow and brushed off his black t-shirt, which has turned rather grey from all of the dust in the room.

"Done this lot, Sir... what time is it?" Havoc questioned, brow furrowing.

Roy yawned and reached towards his discarded jacket lazily to grab his silver pocket watch.

"A quarter past seven, Lieutenant. Why?"

A momentary look of panic crossed Havoc's face and he saluted sharply.

"Permission to leave, Sir?"

"Why the hurry, Havoc?" Roy grinned, pushing himself onto his elbows to look at the blond.

"I have a date, Sir."

"That's right... very well, Lieutenant, you're dismissed."

"Thank you, Sir... we're going to have to stay late again tomorrow night."

"Bring the files around to my place after work," Roy sniffed, "We'll sort them there."

"Where do you live, Sir?"

"You don't know? Oh, I forget that only the women of the city know my address by heart," Roy smirked, and Havoc rolled his eyes as Mustang plucked his fountain pen out of his lapel pocket and scrawled his address on the back of an envelope that had contained a love letter he had received that morning.

"It's a date then," Roy smirked as he placed the paper in Havoc's palm, and the blond once again rolled his eyes.

As Roy watched Havoc leave, he remembered he had his very own "important appointment" to attend. Stretching lazily across the polished oak of the tabletop one final time to grab his coat, he then left the room, locking the door behind himself.

* * *

Standing outside the large theatre in the middle of East City, Colonel Roy Mustang waited impatiently for the date he was supposedly going to watch the show with. "Emily", as she had called herself, had invited him to a date to watch the show currently playing at the East City auditorium; some overly romantic thing about lost loves and tragedy and family feuds. Being the gentleman that he was, Roy had paid for the tickets and stood in line, still in uniform, for a good half-hour before the starting time in order to net them both good seats. 

And admittedly, he was getting rather impatient. Roy Mustang did not like to be stood up on dates, thank you very much.

It was only ten minutes until the show started; they were letting people in to take their seats. Mustang was seriously considering just forgetting the whole event.

"So, this was your appointment, Boss?"

Roy turned around sharply on his heel to see his blond Second Lieutenant standing behind him, with a giggly redhead hanging off his shoulder.

"Indeed, Lieutenant," Mustang replied, a smirk immediately spreading across his lips.

"Didn't know you liked romantic tragedies, Sir," Havoc grinned, and the redhead on his arm giggled. The girl must have had twice as much bust as she did brains.

"Very funny, Lieutenant," Roy snorted, "I will have you know, Lieutenant, that my date for this evening works late tonight and had previously warned me that she may be a couple of minutes late... although I must say, Lieutenant, your sense of style is second to none."

Havoc flushed a light shade of red; as opposed to Roy, he had rushed home and gotten changed into a shirt that looked identical to the ones he wore under his uniform, save that it was button-up, black pants and what looked like his military issue boots.

"At least I took the time to go home and shower, Sir."

"Some people are presentable even after a day of work."

The line was moving steadily forward, and Havoc grinned.

"Mind if we cut in front of you, Boss? I'm sure you'll be wanting to wait out here for your date."

Roy sighed and nodded, and watched his Lieutenant stroll happily into the theatre with the insufferable redheaded bimbo's head rested against his shoulder with a sense of complete disgust. Even after all the other couples had filed into the cinema, Roy was left outside alone with the tickets scrunched in his gloved hands.

* * *

"I didn't see you last night after we went in, Boss," Havoc commented innocently, blowing a perfect smoke ring into the air above him. 

"She was held up at work," Roy lied, but he quickly regained his composure, "She shall be coming over to my apartment this afternoon for a more 'private' rendezvous."

"Suit yourself," Havoc said around his cigarette, and then he frowned.

"What's wrong, Lieutenant?"

"I thought we were sorting those files this afternoon, Boss?"

_Damn._

"What time are you getting off work today, Second Lieutenant?"

"Six, Sir."

"Well, we should have completed our rendezvous by then," Roy smirked, "You can come by at six thirty."

"Nice to know you care," Havoc commented sarcastically, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray on his desk, "I'll go pack those files up then."

As Mustang watched Havoc turn his back and leave for the second time in twenty-four hours, he sighed. He may have been a master of denial, but in the end, he had realized that he was just denying himself and Havoc of what could have been, should be, could be.

Gritting his teeth, Roy ultimately decided that tonight would be the night where he denied nothing.

* * *

"You know, Chief," Havoc commented whilst surveying his superior's dusty and outdated apartment with one fair eyebrow arched, "If I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to stop women from getting in here." 

"Shut up, Lieutenant," Roy replied lightly, moving over to flop down in his old reclining armchair.

"Are we going to sort these files or not?" Havoc grumbled, and Roy smirked and patted the lounge chair next to the recliner he was seated in. Havoc sighed slightly, but carried the large box of papers over to the small lounge room anyway.

"Let's get down to it, then."

"Indeed," Roy said, reaching down to take the lid off the box, "But first, there is something I have to do."

"Hmm?" Havoc 'replied' vaguely as he began sorting the small pile of documents on his lap.

"I apologize."

"For what?"

"For lying to you."

"Hmm?" You didn't lie."

"I did, Lieutenant..." Roy paused and began cursing himself in the back of his mind, having drawn a complete blank on what to say next.

"... Havoc?"

"Yes?" the taller man replied, eyes still on the documents.

Damn it. Trust him to make this more difficult than it already was.

"Look at me."

That caught Havoc's attention, and as the blond was looking up in question, Mustang simply leaned over the armrests of the chairs, cupped Havoc's chin and kissed him.

Roy heard his Lieutenant inhale sharply in surprise but pose no complaint as he was tugged over the armrest and over Mustang, who ran his tongue across the blond's bottom lip in a silent request that was accepted almost instantly.

Havoc broke away and stared at his smirking commander, who wore an expression much like the cat that had just eaten the canary, and then leaned down again and kissed the dark-haired man desperately, large, warm hands finding the back of the smaller man's neck as he kissed him slowly, thumb slowly sliding across the nape of the smaller man's neck.

When they broke apart, Mustang was still wearing that insufferable smirk.

"A little more tongue wouldn't go astray, Lieutenant."

"You know, Sir," Havoc purred softly against Mustang's ear, "Every time you're lying, you get that insufferable smirk on your face... it gives you away every time."

Watching the colour rush to Mustang's face was more satisfying than Havoc thought it would be.

"How about we finish these files later, Lieutenant?" Roy asked when he regained what little dignity he could gather, "My bedroom is just down the hall."

Havoc grinned and kissed his superior's jaw.

"I would be lying if I said I didn't want to, Sir."

* * *

The next morning, Hawkeye frowned at Havoc as she walked over to hand him a folder of the still unfiled papers they were supposed to attend to the night before. 

"Are you alright, Lieutenant?" You look like you didn't get a wink of sleep last night."

"Is that so?" Havoc grinned tiredly, "Maybe I'm coming down with something.

Once Hawkeye's back was turned, Mustang and Havoc's eyes met and they both grinned. Roy leaned back in his chair, lazily signing the first of a large pile of documents; Havoc was becoming quite the master of denial himself.

**END

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**

Comments are very much appreciated.


End file.
